Them's Fightin' Words
by bundysbaby
Summary: Jim and Trixie are struggling with demands on their time. College, marriage and jobs are pulling at them. They survived the Dollmaker, but can they survive each other when tempers fray?


He knew he shouldn't feel this way, but he did. It was bad enough having a double major; law courses that could blow your mind, and more studying than even _Brian_ had, and his wife was distracting him. She had been fidgeting for the past hour, driving him crazy and all but eliminating his focus. He even got up out of their shared office and moved into the living room hoping she would take the hint.

But then again, this was _Trixie_. She followed him in there.

She was sitting on one of the chairs, knees up, and her Locard computer was balanced precariously on them. He couldn't understand how she could possibly be comfortable in that position, never mind get any work done. She was sighing and ohing and making little comments under her breath.

His redheaded temper was beginning to fray. Jim knew he should try to tamp down on it, knew he should try to be more patient, but _damn_, Trixie. He peered over the top of his laptop as she clicked her laptop closed, quite loudly.

He watched as she stood, stretching, and placed the computer on the table.

Right in front of _him._

She sat next to him on the couch, rubbing her pretty face against his sleeve. "Jim?"

He decided it was best to try and answer her in one word sentences or grunts. "Uh-huh." He was staring at the screen, trying really hard to concentrate and failing.

"I'm sick of studying, and Locard, and being cooped up. We never go out anymore and have any fun. We're either studying and doing homework or working or going to school. I'm in the mood for some _fun_."

_Yeah. She's in the mood for some fun while my brain is_ _frying trying to study here_. "Oh."

"What do you say we play hooky for a night? I thought it would be cool for us to go out to a real dinner at Lucabelli's, not pizza or anything, and then maybe go to a movie. We haven't done anything like that _so_ long." She was blinking those big blue headlights at him and a tiny smile curved her mouth.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Trix, I've been _trying_ to study for the last hour here. All you've been doing is hemming and hawing and fidgeting and driving me crazy. Thisisn't like those little courses _you're_ taking. This stuff is hard, _graduate_ stuff." He could hear himself talking, listen to what he was saying to his wife, and knowing, just _knowing_, what the end result was going to be.

_An argument. _

Her head snapped back, her eyes widened more, and a flush stole across those high cheek bones. "Oh. _My_schoolwork is _easy._ You're in _law _school, so naturally you must be a _million_ times smarter than me. Why, you could probably _whip_ through my homework in 10 or 15 seconds _flat._" Her voice was annoyed, sarcastic.

"I _didn't_ say that, Beatrix, but if the notebook fits." The color was rising in Jim's face as he sniped back at her.

Biting down on her lip, Trixie tried another tactic. She skimmed a slender finger over his muscular forearm. "All I'm asking is to go out for a _little_ while, Jim. Just the two of us, just to have some fun together. It's not a _sin_ to leave the studying behind for a minute or two."

"Trixie, what part of _no_ don't you understand? You're going to _college_ now. You're a married woman. I _think_ you would understand when somebody is telling you they have something more important to do than traipse around seeing movies they don't really want to see." Jim's voice was rising as fast as his temper.

Her eyes sparkling dangerously, Trixie jumped to her feet and pushed the top of Jim's laptop, closing whatever document he was reading. "Since when is studying more important than _us_? What's going on, Jim? Am I _boring_ you already? What, do you have a lot of pretty women in your classes in law school that are more able to carry on a _lofty_legal conversation with you?"

"_Screw this_, Trixie, that's not what I said and _you_ know it. I told you I _have_ to study. You're not hearing what I am saying. I'm going to the library and try to get some studying in. It will probably be less distracting there and _quieter_." A 101 piece orchestra playing the 1812 Overture would be less distracting than she was. He stuffed his laptop into his messenger bag as he shouted the words at Trixie.

"Yeah, you just go there, _James_. Just go there and leave me alone, _again_." Trixie picked up her set of keys and winged them towards the door, but he was too fast and they just clunked against the wood.

She was furious, absolutely furious. She did what any woman would do when she had a serious fight with the man she loved more than life itself. She indulged herself in a bout of weeping until her head ached and her eyes were red and puffy.

_So this was marriage_. After the storm of weeping passed, she began to get angry. _She didn't deserve this kind of treatment. Who died and made him king? She didn't hear him? What about him not hearing _her_? What, he didn't want to do anything and she was supposed to stay home by herself and pine away for him? And then when he decided to do something she was supposed to jump? _

If _that's_ what he wanted, then he certainly married the wrong woman.

Trixie went into the bathroom and repaired her face, and decided to make a stand. If Jim didn't want to go out with her, then she'd go out by _herself_. She existed without him for 18 years, made decisions and went places _all by herself_. If he preferred some dusty old library and his laptop instead of her, then she'd do it alone.

She was walking the block or so to Lucabelli's when she heard her name being called. Her first thought was _Jim's come after me!_

The man calling her name caught up with her and gave her a big bear hug. "Trixie Belden Frayne! What on earth are you doing walking down the block all by yourself?"

Trixie stared up into the face of Tad Webster. "Tad! What you doing here in the city? At least _I _live here. Last I heard you were still in Sleepyside." She wondered if the old adage was true – if you stand long enough on a street corner in New York City, eventually you'll see someone you know.

"I was supposed to be meeting Ruthie here, you know Ruthie Kettner, from back home. We were going to go to dinner at this place called Lucabelli's that Mart told me about and I have tickets for the revival of _42nd Street_. Ruthie was coming in on the later train because I had an appointment in here in the city. She just called a while ago from the emergency room. Her mother fell and broke her ankle, so she had to break our date." Tad frowned a bit.

"Oh, that's too bad. I hope Mrs. Kettner is okay. I was just headed over to Lucabelli's myself. When did you start seeing Ruthie?" She never imagined _those_ two would get together.

"I've been seeing Ruthie for quite a while. You're out of the Sleepyside gossip loop, Trix. Say, why don't you join me? That is, if you're not waiting for Jim…"

Trixie opened her mouth to say no, but instead heard herself agreeing enthusiastically. "I'd _love_ to, Tad! I was just headed over there myself. Jim has a _pile_ of studying to do tonight, and he claims I'm a distraction."

Tad looked at the beautiful girl smiling back at him and silently agreed with the absent Jim. She would be a big distraction for _him_, that's for sure! "Really, Trix, if you're not doing anything and Jim needs you out of the house for a while, why don't you come to the show with me? I have Ruthie's ticket and it will just go to waste if you don't use it."

As the two friends from Sleepyside walked into Lucabelli's, Trixie found herself saying, "Gleeps, Tad, that sounds like fun. I haven't been to a Broadway play in _ages_. Now, catch me up on all the gossip in Sleepyside. Is Mr. Lytell still sniffing after Ms. Trask? Inquiring minds want to know."

Jim glanced at the clock again. 11 PM. Where the _hell_ was Trixie? He was really, really starting to get worried. And he didn't get one iota done of any of the studying that he wanted to do.

He arrived at the library and found a secluded spot, opened up his laptop, and all he could see was his Shamus with her disappointed blue eyes and the corners of her mouth turned down. Try as he might, he couldn't get that image out of his brain. Would it _really_ be so bad to spend some quality time together? They both _had_ been studying a lot lately, and with work and everything they seem to be shunting their relationship aside. He didn't want to be one of those couples that grew apart instead of closer together.

After an hour or so of studying, or really _lack_ of studying, he picked up his stuff and went home. On the way there, he stopped at one of those little floral kiosks and bought a pretty, spring-like bouquet. He had his apology all planned out. He grinned a little evilly. _He had the make-up part planned out, too. _

All those plans were shot to hell when he opened the door and yelled. "Trix? Baby? I'm home."

There was no response. Well, okay. _She was probably giving him the silent treatment._ He _was_ kind of hard on her.

She wasn't in the living room or the office or the kitchen. She wasn't in either of the bathrooms or the guest room.

What was most worrisome of all, she wasn't in their bedroom. Her laptop was still there, so she didn't go to Locard. All that was missing were her house keys and her shoulder bag. And she forgot her cell phone. _Again_.

_She probably went to get something to eat. She'll be back soon_.

But she _wasn't_. And since this was Trixie Belden Frayne, there was always outside chance she was kidnapped by a crazed serial killer, met an old Mexican woman who gave her a strange prophecy, or halted a terrorist cell and was now giving a statement to CNN. The longer she stayed away, the more worried he became and conversely, the angrier he became.

When he heard the rattle of keys in the lock, he felt equal parts relief and irritation. Where the _hell_ was she so long? Didn't she have the _brains_ in that blonde head to leave a note? Call? What were phones for? He just wanted to kiss her and run his fingers over her to make sure she was okay, and then try to shake some sense into that hard head.

And after that, get her _naked_ as soon as possible.

So, he was all primed for it when she opened the door, looked up, and saw her husband leaning negligently against the archway to the living toom. What he really wanted to say was, "Hi baby, I was so _worried_ about you. Where were you?"

Unfortunately, what came out was, "And where the hell have you been, _Mrs. Frayne_?" His tone was belligerent, his stance challenging.

She tossed her head back, like a high–mettled horse, and the light of battle entered her eyes.

Very carefully, and with great precision, she placed her bag and keys on the table after she locked the door. Although he was almost a foot taller than she was, somehow she looked down her pert little nose at him. "I was _out_, Jim." With that short answer, she sailed by him like she was the damn queen of England.

She didn't get very far into the living room, when she felt his hand grab her arm and spin her around. "What do you mean by _out_? You don't even think to leave me a note or give me a call to let me know you're not going to be here? Oh, that's _right_. You _left_ your phone on the table." His emerald green eyes were literally shooting sparks. She was his_wife,_ dammit. He had a right to know where she was.

Trixie pulled her arm out of his tight grasp, rubbing at the red mark on her skin. "Well, I _thought_ I would be home before you were, because you didn't _deign_ to tell me the time you were coming home. And I didn't want to _distract_ you with any unnecessary phone calls." _Put that in your pipe and smoke it, buster_.

Jim ran a frustrated hand through his thick red hair, causing it to stick up rather haphazardly. "You should have had the courtesy to at least leave me a note. I've been home for _hours _worrying about you."

"You can't have it both ways, Jim. You don't want to go anywhere with me, all you want to do is study and work and go to class. Don't you think I know the signs? If you're not interested in doing anything with me, _why _should you be interested in what I'm doing?"

A small part of his brain was really proud of her. Maybe he shouldn't be the one going to law school. Maybe it should be her. Because, boy, she'd be _hell _as a prosecutor. "_One_ time, Trixie. One time I'm not _jumping_ at your command and right away our whole relationship is in question. Everything I'm doing now is for _us_." His face was red and he was practically standing toe to toe with her, yelling.

The fight suddenly went out of her. Instead of the intense blue flame that had been crisping his skin, a haunting sadness filled her eyes. "I could believe that if it _was_ one time, Jim. But it's _so_ much more than one. When's the last time the two of us went out, alone? Just to do something fun? Every time I even tried to raise the subject, you shut me down with study – work – school. I just… I just feel that I'm sort of like a convenience for you now. I'm here to cook and clean and satisfy your sexual desires, and maybe even have a grunt or two as scintillating conversation. But you don't see me, you don't see _Trixie_, after that."

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Is that how she saw their marriage? She was a vessel to be used by him, by his needs, and nothing more? If that was true, they were headed for big trouble.

"Do you _really_ want to know where I was, Jim?" She was trying really hard not to cry. "I went to Lucabelli's for dinner, by myself. On the way there, I ran into Tad Webster. From Sleepyside. He was going there too, was supposed to be meeting Ruthie Kettner for dinner and a Broadway show. But she had to bail due to a personal emergency. We ended up having dinner together and he asked me if I wanted to accompany him to the show seeing as how he had an extra ticket that was going to go to waste. _And I agreed_. After that we stopped for quick scoop of ice cream at Froyo's. I'm_not_ going to apologize for it, because it's the _best_ time I've had in a _long_ time."

A lone tear escaped from the corner of her eye. She smiled rather tremulously and said in a quiet voice, "I'm really tired. I'm going to go to bed." She pivoted on her heel and left the room, dejected and tired of the same old argument.

The winds of rage were no longer filling Jim's sails. His _wife_, his Trixie, the one person in the world he loved above all else, had gone out to dinner with _another man_. It didn't matter that it was completely innocent, that the man in question was a friend of both of them. He should have been the one at Lucabelli's with her; he should have been the one taking her to see a play or watching the dumb movie or going to a comedy club and just laughing their asses off.

Earlier in the day, he had accused _her_ of not hearing him, but apparently _he_ was not hearing her, either. He scrubbed a large hand across his face, and knew that he couldn't let things stand as they were. This marriage, this life they were trying to build together, what they had, was too important to let this fall by the wayside and fester.

The door to their bedroom was closed. He hesitated before it; should he knock? What if she said go away? For once he listened to the part of him that dictated actions speak louder than words, and he simply turned the knob and entered.

She was sitting on the bed and looked up at his entrance, her pretty eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. "I really don't want to fight any more, Jim." Her voice was tired with that little hitch that told him she was trying not to break down and she averted her eyes, absorbed in the pattern of the rug.

Trixie didn't hear him cross over to her, didn't know he was near until she felt his weight settle on the bed next to her. "I don't want to fight either, Trix. I just… I just want to make everything right." His index finger followed the wet trail down to her chin. "I don't want to make you cry. I also don't want to sit here wondering if something happened to you, scared out of my mind. It was all I could do not call my sister, your brothers or anyone else and raise the alarm. You're not_quite_ the average runaway wife." He tipped her chin up to look at him. "Most guys don't have to worry that their wife might have been kidnapped by a demented gunrunner or was out busting a gang of international jewel thieves."

She pressed her lips together and nodded her head. She just didn't trust herself to say anything right now. If she did, she might give in to the emotions that were swamping her and knocking her sideways.

"I'm sorry I didn't hear you before, Trix. I'm sorry I didn't hear you before then, either. It's just that everything in my life was so out of control after my dad died that I just _need_ to plan everything out. I need to make sure in case anything happens to me, you're not going to run off and marry first guy who asks you so you can ensure a future for our children."

"Jim, I'm not your mother. I know it sounds harsh for me to say that, but I'm _not_. If… if anything should ever happen to you, I hope I shall be strong enough to take care of our children and myself. Don't forget, we…_you_ have a large family now. And family helps family."

How could she make him understand that there may be a certain similarity in coloring to his mother, but they were absolutely _nothing_ alike?

"I know, Trixie, I know. At least I know it in here," he rapped on his head with his knuckles, "But I seem to have a hard time believing it in here." Jim placed his palm flat against his chest right where his heart was.

He laced his fingers of his other hand through hers. Cracking a small smile, he said with a hint of amusement to his voice, "I think what we have here is a failure to communicate."

"Ya think?" She angled her body to face his. "And since you're so sage, what do you think we should do about it?" She began to draw little circles on his thigh, waiting for his answer.

He scooted a little bit closer to her. "I think that we should really stop and listen to what the other one is saying." His hand was sliding through her curls, mussing them up and reveling in their soft silkiness. "There may be times I just _can't _go out, Trix. But there also should be times I can let everything go and concentrate on you, on us."

"There may be times when _I_ can't go out, Jim. But I want you know you are always my first priority. What we have is too important to let the lack of communication drive a wedge between us. We have to make time _just_ for us." Her eyes widened as he leaned over her, his lips merely centimeters away from hers, his muscular body gently pushing her down on the bed.

His emerald green eyes were hooded, the light flush on his face signaling his desire. "Us time. Sounds good to me," he groaned as his lips brushed her softness. He needed an outlet for all the emotion storming through him, saw the matching simmer in her eyes.

The delight and desire and optimism that bubbled right under her surface was rising rapidly as the heat coiled through her. "Date night. Sometimes scheduled, and sometimes completely spontaneous. Oh, just _don't_ stop doing that." His mouth was on her neck, wet sucking kisses that would probably leave a mark and have Honey and Diana teasing her all day.

"Anything you say, Mrs. Frayne. Anything you say." His voice was a low, hoarse growl and those talented hands were rapidly disposing of her clothes.

Tad Webster looked at the unfamiliar handwriting on the envelope and opened it. It wasn't his birthday, and his and Ruthie's anniversary was not for a couple months – he desperately hoped. Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled the card out of the envelope and frowned at the front. Thank you! marched across the card in merry, multicolored letters. He opened the card and frowned at the signature within.

He had absolutely no idea what Trixie Belden Frayne was thanking him for.


End file.
